Weathering Heights (Rare Heir)


It is rare


No warmth in a cold unbelieving stare

So indeed…

It is rare

When something heard or seen in a dream

And a prompt accompanies

And a voice is heard

Then shared

Received… in belief… accepted as “true”

It is rare

Such long roads traveled

To get us there

The miracle apparent

Melts cold stares

And tears prevail

When eagles dare

There is a boldness before us

Refreshing, restoring…

That only need be grasped

Hands clasped together

Gather more

Than freed hands

Without guidance

What is rare

Is only rare

Because we have too easily

Accepted the common, mundane, uninspired, routines…

As exceptional

Everyday miracles abound

All around us


In arrival

Without a sound

While standing where feet may have gotten temporarily cold and wet

Remained focused, intent, obedient, Persevered, elevated…

Moved on when it was the hardest thing to do

And a backwards glance over a shoulder reveals where once stood

And others feet along the same path had blistered, seared, despaired

Sunken slowly and drowned

Where once was a puddle

Now stands a lake…manmade




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